After the men finished cleaning the kitchen following the toddlers' meal, I returned to my food preparation. Despite tacos being a simple dish, preparing all the fillings took time, and I knew I had a lot to accomplish. My next task was making the remaining taco shells and then frying them. However, according to Number One, he preferred someone else fry them, as grease vapors irritated my sensitive lungs.
Although I wasn't certain anyone would be available, and I had fried food before, it was my responsibility to complete the food preparation. I had to prepare the meat for the fillings and consider what else we would add to our tacos. Since each of us would only have three shells, we'd also have a plate full of other food; we ate a lot.
My basal metabolism was 20 to 25 times faster than a human's, with a daily calorie expenditure between 15,000 and 20,000. Since I was still recovering, I couldn't absorb all the nutrients from food as I normally would, necessitating extra eating. Therefore, our food needed to be calorie- and fat-rich, considering we were primarily hyper-versions of felines in human form, essentially carnivores.
For us, there was no such thing as too much cholesterol or fat, but the fat needed to be animal-based, avoiding so-called "healthy" fats, as these actually bind the necessary fats our system required, rendering them unusable. Thus, preparing and making food for our pack was very different from cooking for humans.
If a human were to witness our feast, they might faint or perhaps only eat a few spoonfuls and still gain weight; human metabolism was exceedingly slow compared to ours.
Our vitals reflected the fever. Our temperature hovered at a feverish 104.1°F, our pulse raced at 160 to 180 beats per minute, and our breathing was also rapid, at 30 breaths per minute. Our bodies were operating at a much faster pace, and this "engine" demanded a lot of fuel.
I also planned to showcase my taco station. It was a friendly competition between Salvatore and me; they always tried to replicate my creations, especially as dinnertime approached. The kitchen would fill with helping hands, and they were now eager to follow my instructions. I began mentally listing my next steps.
First, I would get all the taco shells ready for frying. Then, I would empty out the smoking house and bring the meats to be set. Finally, I would find someone to fry the taco shells. They didn't need to be served warm, as the magic at our table would heat the food. It was fortunate to have wizards in the group, as many helpful spells were often employed.
I would prepare ten meat-based dishes for the toddlers, along with fillings, sauces, and salads. Dessert was nearly complete, an ice cream bar featuring 15 different flavors. There would also be whipped cream, vanilla sauce, fresh berries, jams, jellies, crushed fruits, purees, cookies, crumbles, biscuits, and waffles, allowing each of us to create our own dessert plate, with plenty for everyone to enjoy.
Despite the clock showing only 1 pm, with dinner planned for around 7 or 8 pm, I knew I would be busy for most of the time. I tended to handle most of the tasks myself. It would take nearly an hour to start the plate trays, make coffee, and arrange everything for display before we even began eating.
After dinner, I would clean everything up while the childminders, those in charge of childcare, would have the dubious honor of bathing the toddlers, as it was bath day, and they would get wet.
I might have a late snack, or I would compile a tray and bring it to my bedroom to watch movies, read, eat, and maybe sleep. Weekends were often less busy, as Sundays were primarily for rest with fewer chores. On Sundays, meal preparation and eating were usually a communal activity rather than something done by just one or a few people.
I typically enjoyed a sauna and spa on Sundays, and sometimes I would bring the toddlers. I would adjust the heat to be mild to give them new experiences. I was unsure how much Damon, number one, and Mariella would disrupt our routine until I taught them how to manage it, as we had to make it work as a pack, not just me.
I took a snack box I had made for myself from the fridge, opened it, and began chopping more fruits and preparing berries. They would go in the fridge; I had some time before I was going to get the meats from the smokehouse around 2 PM. The meats would go in the oven; the first wave would be ready by 4 PM, and I would have time to put more birds in for a few hours so they would be done for dinner.
It was a well-organized day, and I actually enjoyed it, as it challenged me a bit. As I was still chopping fruits and choosing berries to put into bowls, Adam walked in.
He came up behind me, wrapped his strong arms around me, pulled me against his chest, inhaled my scent, and buried his nose in my hair. "Mmm, honey, I have missed you. You seem busy, but I guess you could use a sous chef. I am all yours, my love; put me to work."
I leaned into him, enjoyed his closeness, and said, "Well, actually, how about you start to fry taco shells? I'll show you how; there are plenty, over 80 of them, and you can fry six to five at a time."
He murmured to me, "Suit me, my love. I get to spend time with you. Oh my god, I have missed you so fucking much."
He didn't want to let me go right away. I could hear the kids running and screaming further in the playroom or living room. Several Salvatores were trying to control the chaos. Mariella was there too; she seemed a little overwhelmed as her perfect trio had found their own needs and wants and were no longer little, perfect, nice babies but eager toddlers running around.
Some Salvatores seemed to cuss under their breath as potty time wasn't going as it should, and someone had overturned their potty, making the rugs soaked in piss. Well, we had more rugs, and those could be washed in the machine.
Adam smiled and said, "Oh, they are not really used to chaos. I mean, those kids are a handful, and as they are everywhere, doing who knows what, it's a full-time job."
I nodded and added, "Why in the world do you think I love to cook? I have a horde of eager husbands to contain those hurricanes while I get to enjoy myself and do a little 1-0 to the Salvatores, as tacos are new, and this will be something else."
Adam finally let me go, and I showed him my rack. I showed him how to hang each circle so it formed a shell. Soon, he was starting to warm up the oil, getting ready, and putting papers ready where to put the shells to drain. I also showed him the taco stands, three shells each, so he could fill them if he had time. Each stand was for one of us, so in a stand, there were slots for one violet, one pink, and one yellow shell. Those stands would then be put in our trays when it was getting near dinnertime.
An hour later, Adam was still frying, the smell filling the kitchen as the Salvatores were now in a challenge called "put babies to have a nap." I popped a few tiny pieces of meat in my mouth as I was now focusing on frying my mincemeat and getting the sauce ready.
I had gone and fetched those meats, and I also had a big box full of small game. I needed to take meat out of them, using some of the meat for the babies and some for our fillings. I could put a little more spice in for what was going to be our filling.
I didn't pay so much attention to what the babies did or what the Salvatores were muttering about when the waft of a foul smell came to my attention. First, I thought maybe Adam had farted, but as I heard eager babbling, it made me turn around.
In the gate near the kitchen door, Sabrina and Seraphina were standing, holding what looked like a toilet brush covered in something brown and stinky, and it was all over their hands. Sabrina hit the gate with the dirty brush, smearing it too.
"Ugh," I thought, rolling my eyes. In a voice dripping with mock sweetness, I called out to Damon through the hive, "Damon, could you please come and get the twins? Wash them and wipe down that gate, too? I'm trying to cook, and I don't need them spreading poop everywhere."
Damon didn't reply immediately, but I soon heard footsteps approaching. He walked in just as he saw my eager twins, now armed with poopy brushes, hitting each other.
"Oh my god, you two, stop that! Ew, just look at you!" he exclaimed. "Fine, give those to me. Ella, could you come and assist?"
Mariella's voice floated back, "Nope, I'm busy. What are you even doing? I thought you got the kids to nap."
Damon grumbled in response, "So did I. I was wrong."
Soon after, Wulfe and Number Two walked in. Wulfe wore a wide grin as the eager twins, their hands still covered in poop, lunged for a hug. It was a hilarious sight. Wulfe scooped the toddlers up and carried them to the bathroom, while Damon muttered about locking the bathroom door and removing all available potties.
Wulfe returned shortly and announced, "Those two conned Number One. He thought they were sleeping, but they must have climbed out of their beds. Since the potties were available, well, the girls made poop and found a few toilet brushes. I hope they'll be sleeping soon. What are you up to?"
I was in the midst of pulling meat from tiny critters – beavers, minks, groundhogs, and the like – placing it all in a large bowl. I would then portion some of it and shape it for the babies, and use the rest for the adults' sauce.
"Just cleaning my small game," I explained. "This mixed small game meat is for the babies, and I'll use some of it to make the sauce. We can put the bones and the rest of these in our broth tomorrow. I'm not sure if there's room for them yet."
Wulfe offered, "Well, I'll go check."
Adam chimed in, "That was truly hilarious, I must say. Damon, being so pedantic and such a clean freak... well, having five toddlers, who are decidedly less clean, teaches him quite a bit."
I smiled too. Babies certainly kept the men busy, and I was eager to see how long Damon could play dad, or if he would soon be logging tasks for himself, as well. But despite their messiness and antics, they were wonderful little people, and it was lovely to see them grow and learn new things every day, interact with me and others more, and constantly learn new words.
"Fine, I think these are done," Wulfe said, peering into the broth kettle. "I'll lift them out and start to separate them. We can load up what you have and let it simmer; we have time."
I nodded and let him work. He deftly lifted the inner pot and overturned the meat and bones into a bowl. Then, he placed the inner pot back and came to me, taking the cleaned ingredients I had prepared and dropping them into the broth to simmer.
I continued to clean the small rabbits, groundhogs, and other game, separating the larger pieces of meat while leaving the joints and carcasses for the broth. Adam had almost finished frying all of the shells, and he was deftly placing them into the stand once they were drained and cooled.
He used a spell that allowed him to pile them without overcrowding the workstation. In the back of the kitchen, I had two stations for the larger, smoked carcasses, waiting for cleanup. Surely, some of the Salvatores or other helpers would come in, and I could have them chop the carcasses into smaller pieces.
Then, I could determine what we needed for dinner and what to put in the freezer or fridge. I hadn't checked who was on kitchen duty tomorrow or what food was planned. We had an initial menu for the week, but sometimes the cook might make something new, and it was no big deal.
I was nearly finished with the meats when numbers one, two, and four entered the kitchen. Number one walked to our display, placed his finger on the scanner, and began to check for available items.
Number two remarked, "Mariella showed him how; we've added him to the system, so we have more people to help. The kids are asleep, for now. It wasn't easy getting them down; they were running around and didn't want to nap, and there was that little incident with the twins. Those two will give even *me* grey hairs."
I smiled and asked, "Are you free? There's Wagyu and hog in the outdoor kitchen that have cooled off. You could chop them and deliver what we need here. Alternatively, I have some smoked carcasses and birds in the back that need to be chopped. I need those meats. When Adam is finished, I'm about to start on my sauces, but if you want something spicier, like pepper sauce or chili sauce, you can make it yourself."
Number one then added, "Mariella, why don't you start cleaning those smoked carcasses? Adam can assist you. I've sent numbers ten and nine to chop the bigger ones, and they'll get us more meat. I will help you, my baby, with your sauces. I can make hollandaise and béarnaise, as you tend to split them. I'll also see if I can make something hotter for us. What are you planning for the babies? I know you listed ten meats, but list them for me."
I rolled my eyes and said, "Fine. Mixed small game, lamb, Wagyu, mixed small fish, chicken, duck, elk, sealion, shrimp, scallops, and pork."
Damon replied, "That's eleven, but fine. We'll see what we use. I need to taste the babies' blood to ensure the portions are suitable. Wulfe, could you give me what your protector radar says? I can update mine, as I'm the leader, the main protector here."
Adam, being sly, said, "Make sure you take care of Mariella's needs. She's pregnant, and with her history of preeclampsia and whatnot, proper nutrition is important."
I smiled slightly and reached for my snack box, but number four had walked over and taken it, muttering to himself that not every piece in it was optimal for me. Fine by me; I had more snack boxes in the fridge.
As soon as I got these *salvatores* busy, I could snack some more. I'd learned to do it, and it was a fun habit, keeping me going and making my weight slowly rise.
Although I enjoyed being the queen of the kitchen, I kept this thought hidden. There was no need for Salvatore or even Wulfe to realize it, as they might become too eager to assert their dominance. I wasn't in the mood for a direct confrontation; this subtle form of control suited me better.
There was always plenty to do. For example, there were our snakes. I could, and probably should, direct four or five of the Salvatores to check on them. It would keep them occupied, and I knew just how to phrase my suggestion so that they would take it as their own idea, meaning they'd handle it and wouldn't let me do it.
Besides, I was busy in the kitchen, and I was a master at subtly misdirecting my husbands, ensuring they didn't overcrowd the kitchen or interfere with my cooking.